


teatime

by Blue_Rive



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, But only a bit, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Ramblings, the toy soldier gets a liddol bird and that's really all that's important here, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Rive/pseuds/Blue_Rive
Summary: There are a lot of things the Toy Soldier doesn't understand.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	teatime

**Author's Note:**

> this is a snippet i originally wrote and sent on the mechscord a month ago, but was rereading it again and figured it was worth posting!

The widow usually came to talk to it around teatime, though it depended on what state she’d been in the day before- sometimes she insisted it come to bed with her, sometimes she sent it back with all the other clockwork figures. It had tried to talk to them, early on, but they were all dreadfully boring. It had thought they were simply shy at first, but after a year of it telling them all about whatever interesting thing came into its head, it determined they had no interest in pretending to be human like it was. Still, they were very good listeners, and it liked having friends. It had given them all names and characters and things. There was one who it liked to think of as being quite good at chess, and sometimes they played (with the Toy Soldier as both sides) which was jolly good fun.

It was in the middle of one of those games when the widow came in. She was early .

”You always did like chess, didn’t you?” the widow said. “Come with me.” She took its hand, sending a shiver of sick fear through it.

That was a good response, right? The thing was that, if she didn’t like it, then she yelled at it which was rude and sometimes she cried, because she was real and allowed to do that. It never knew what to do, because no one ever did anything if it was sad but it didn’t want to just stand there and it was all a bit of a mess. But then if it did everything right and was good and perfect and what she wanted, then she’d call it Charles which wasn’t its name and make it do things it didn’t understand and didn’t much like and now she was leaving with it in tow and it really wished she’d let go of its hand. 

She did now. They were in the dining room. That meant tea. Tea was alright. It knew how to make it, now. At first it had done it really wrong, and she’d been sad. Now, it thought it had it right, but she still sometimes talked about it just not being the same and be sad again and it wouldn’t know what it needed to fix. 

She was talking, going on about a club meeting a week ago, except she had been inside all that day and hadn’t left her room, so this must have been another of the games of pretend they played together. She did that a lot- talked about the news too, but they got the Hermes every Sunday and she never read it and so the Toy Soldier had taken it to make a nest for the clockwork canary.


End file.
